This was Not Promising to Be a Good Day
by Shelby
Summary: RENTfic. Angel's having a bad day...long, and there's a lot of "language" and junk. Humorous at some times. Not at others. (Oh yeah, and it's my "junky" writing style-kinda an offbeat format...)
1. It Begins...

This Was Not Promising to be a Good Day  
  
Author's note: THANK YEWS VERY MUCHES TO my l'il sister Callie and Bucklind for thrusting the idea of Mark having a teddy bear in both of our heads. I loved "Blueberry Muffins" by the way Bucklind. You're such a sweetie for writing it.   
  
Yes, it's long. Yes, it's a chapter fic. Yes, it's probably going to end up about three chapters long.   
  
No, I don't expect to ever be taken seriously when it comes to this fic.   
  
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The sun did not shine on April 14th. Nor did birds sing in the laminated trees that were potted in rows to create the makeshift affect of nature in the East Village.   
  
Not like any birds would live in those things anyway.   
  
Still, a gloomy air was wafting around downtown New York. Rain fell against insufficient roofs, and peals of thunder boomed in between flashes of lightening that occurred so frequently and so brightly that lights were hardly needed in any homes with windows.   
  
Which, as the case may be, was pretty much all of them.   
  
Angel opened one amber eye up, then the other. One hand drifting up to scrub at the film over his vision, the boy stretched, yawned, and looked eagerly to the window for the bright, cheerful rays of sun.   
  
The resounding crash of thunder echoed through the room, and Angel's face fell slightly.   
  
"Damn."  
  
Looking around, Angel collapsed back to the bed. Not for the first time, he wished it were sunny. The weather, however, had decided (it seemed) to follow the way his life had been going for the past few days. In the course of 48 hours, he had:   
  
1. Managed to lose his best friend Sasha's affection to some uppity ditz of a drag queen named Shelby.   
  
2. Miss the third consecutive payment on his flat and was expecting an angry landlord any time now.   
  
And 3. Get in the biggest fight of the century with Collins over something so small that Angel didn't remember what it was.   
  
Naturally, the week wasn't promising to be a good one, and at 7:32 a.m. on Sunday, Angel didn't feel like getting up. Not to mention, his stomach ached and there was a strange pounding right between his eyes that made his mind throb with pain.   
  
Blame it on the crappy food at the Life Cafe.  
  
"I need a drink." Angel mumbled, "a good, strong drink. And a cigarette, now that I think about it." (This statement was proclaimed completely disregarding the fact that he had quite smoking about six months ago.)   
  
Maybe food would help.   
  
With a groan and an obscene word, Angel lifted himself out from under the warm covers and out into the freezing world.   
  
Instantly, he regretted his decision. Although now it was too late, because he knew there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep now. So, with another groan and another obscene word, he trudged wearily to the kitchen.   
  
It took him about three seconds to realize why his gray sweatpants were so big. They were Collins'.   
  
Not that he wanted to have anything to do with Collins.   
  
But the pants were Collins'.  
  
Probably from an earlier load of laundry.   
  
Judging by the materialized gray color of the fabric, Angel concluded that the pants had probably started out a beigish-ivory.   
  
Collins couldn't do the wash.   
  
White stockings ended up pink. Purple shirts turned out yellow.   
  
"Memo to self: Stop letting Collins do the wash."  
  
Angel paused, and then spoke again.   
  
"Memo to self: Stop wearing Collins' clothing. One day, you're gonna trip over the bottoms and break something."  
  
Then again, Collins had much warmer clothing than he had. Mostly.   
  
"Memo to self: Grow so you don't trip over the bottoms so you can wear Collins' clothing and not have to worry about hospital bills."  
  
Angel was just putting a pot of water to boil on the stove for cocoa when the phone rang. He jumped, and sprinted for the ringing device.   
  
Maybe it was Collins, calling because he wanted to apologize.   
  
Maybe it was Collins, calling because he wanted his pants back.   
  
"Hello?"  
"Hi, is Bob Morriset there?"  
"You've got the wrong number." Angel muttered, and slammed down the phone. "I'm better off without him anyway."  
  
/That/ particular conviction lasted about three seconds. A new record.   
  
Angel went back to his pot, which was now bubbling. The water spilled over, and scorching liquid spilled onto Angel's bare chest.   
  
"SHIT!!!"  
  
The drag queen scrambled around for a towel, and saturated it with freezing water. Next, he pressed the soaking material against his chest.   
  
That felt better for about four seconds. Then he got cold.   
  
"Memo to self: Don't put too much water in pot."  
  
Angel whimpered in pain, before pouring the remaining water into a mug and adding the instant hot cocoa mix. Next stop, the freezer-he needed chocolate ice cream and needed it fast.   
  
The phone rang again.   
  
Angel walked to get the phone, slower this time.   
  
"Hello?"  
"Angel?"  
"Who's this?"  
"Shelby."  
  
Oh, goody.   
  
"What is it?"  
"I called to ask you if you were mad at me."  
"Why would I be mad at you?"  
"I dunno, but when Sasha introduced us, you acted sorta distant."  
  
'That's just because you're a lying, cheating, no-good, best friend stealing slut.' Angel thought to himself, before smiling forcefully into the phone.   
  
"I'm not mad at you Shelby. I was just...not feeling well."  
"Oh. Okay. Bye then."  
  
Angel slammed down the phone again. Why the fuck didn't Sasha call?  
Why the fuck didn't Collins call?  
Why the fuck wasn't he calling Collins?  
  
Why the fuck was he asking this many questions?  
  
Angel collapsed to his chair, and dug into the bowl filled with chocolate ice cream. For a fleeting moment, he thought about his weight, but it left his head as soon as it entered it. He wasn't having a good morning, a good day, hell; we could shoot for a no-good week while they were at it!  
  
The chocolate began to work, and he slowly felt better.   
  
Then the phone rang.   
  
Angel went to get it, and picked it up warily.   
  
"Hello?"  
"Is this Angel?"  
  
It was Mark.   
  
"Yeah. It's me."  
"Angel? Um, I can't find my...um..." the voice on the other line whispered, "teddy bear."  
"Gee, I'm...well...sorry Mark." Angel wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He didn't even know Mark /had/ a teddy bear.   
  
Come to think of it, Angel figured no one else did either.   
  
It didn't surprise him though. The poor guy probably made out with it at night and named it Maureen.   
  
Poor guy.  
  
"Yeah, well, I was wondering if you could come and help me look for it."  
  
Wow. Just what he wanted to do with his morning. Hunt for a fuckin' lost teddy bear.   
  
"I'm sorry Mark. But I'm real busy. Maybe you could get Col-I mean, Roger to help you."  
  
Angel slammed the phone again.   
  
Damn. Damn. Damn.   
  
WHY WASN'T COLLINS CALLING?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!  
  
What a stupid question. Angel returned to his chocolate. The ice cream was melting.   
  
"IT'S FUCKIN' COLD IN THIS DAMN FLAT!! WHY IS IT MELTING?!?!"  
  
Angel pushed the watery ice cream and bowl into the sink half-heartedly, and sipped at his hot chocolate.   
  
It had turned cold.   
  
"Oh sure, the thing that's /supposed/ to be cold, isn't. And yet the thing that isn't, is. What a shitty day."  
  
Angel looked at his watch. 8:14.   
  
The phone rang.   
  
"Hello." This time, Angel didn't even bother sounding interested.   
  
There was a strange halt on the line, before the person on the other end hung up.   
  
"Hello? Oh, well, FUCK YOU TOO!" Angel slammed the phone down on the receiver. He knew who that was, Collins.   
  
With an aggravated sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed Collins' number.   
  
It rang. Once, twice.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
That was Collins' voice on the other end. Angel resisted the temptation to beg for forgiveness, but instead let the phone drop nonchalantly onto the hook.   
  
The phone rang five seconds afterwards.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
Pause.   
Click.   
  
Collins hung up.   
  
Angel dialed back and repeated the process. For almost ten minutes the game continued.   
  
Finally, Angel unplugged the phone.   
  
Then he looked forlornly at the melted ice cream and lukewarm cocoa.   
  
He wanted to go back to bed.   
  
8:23  
8:24  
8:25  
8:26  
8:27  
8:28  
8:29  
8:30  
  
Angel was getting sick and tired of looking at the clock.   
  
He waited for Collins to call back.   
  
He forgot that the phone had been unplugged.   
  
He considered calling Collins and apologizing.   
  
He considered jumping out the sixth story window.   
  
He considered flinging himself in front of a speeding truck.   
  
He considered going shopping.   
  
He considered going back to bed.   
  
He decided on plugging back in the phone.   
  
THUMP THUMP THUMP!!  
  
A heavy knock came from the door.   
  
Angel didn't check how he looked in the mirror, but opened the door anyway.   
  
Instantly he wished he had made sure he looked all right.   
  
Instantly he wished he hadn't opened the door in the first place.   
  
Collins stood in the doorway. Brawny dark arms were folded across his chest, his brown eyes were narrowed, and his lips were drawn into a forced frown. A small box of things was set at his feet.   
  
Angel yelped, and instantly grabbed a shirt from the couch-despite the fact that Collins had often seen him with much less clothing that what he was wearing at the moment.  
  
"You left this junk at the loft."  
  
Angel opened his mouth to retort something cutting, but halfway through the journey from his brain to his mouth, words and thoughts got mixed up. Thus, instead of a harsh comment, out popped-"Damn you're sexy when you're pissed."  
  
The drag queen's cheeks flamed a brilliant red, and his amber eyes widened in mortification. "Oh shit..."  
  
Collins' mouth shifted slightly, and his expression softened a little bit, before he averted his eyes to the box, kicking it into the door. "I don't want it. You take it. And I know I left some clothing here, so I'd like it back."  
  
Anything to get out of Collins' sight. Angel spun around and collected a basketful of clothing he had accumulated that belonged rightfully to Collins. This was thrust into Tom's arms. "Fine, here you go."  
  
"Those are my pants."  
Angel glanced down at the pair he was wearing, and shrugged. "Oh well, I'm wearing them now, and as soon as you said 'we're over' you forfeited the right to pull my clothing off."  
This time, Collins' cheeks blushed slightly, before he tightened his mouth sternly. "They're mine."  
"You can wait until I've washed them. Then I'll give 'em back, I promise."  
"I guess that's better anyway-you washin' them first. Lord knows, I don't want them after they've been on you until they've been sterilized and bleached."  
"Yeah, I guess it is better that I wash them anyway-because you couldn't rinse a pair of socks if you tried."  
"Oh fuck you!"  
"No thanks, I've already done that plenty of times. You've forfeited /that/ right too."  
Collins' eyes blazed, and he shifted his weight to the other foot. "Fine then."  
"Fine!"  
"Fine!"  
  
Angel slammed the door in his face.   
  
Instantly, he regretted yelling at Collins.   
  
And for slamming the door in his face.   
  
And for giving Collins that basket. He had left his necklace in one of the pockets in Collins' pants. The same pair of pants that were sitting under a shirt and pair of socks in the /same/ basket that was now being carried home in Collins' arms.   
  
Boy would he love to be that basket at the moment.   
  
Angel slumped down on the couch. This was not promising to be a good day...  
  
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There will be more. I didn't mean it to be this long...I promise!!  
  
But if you make it to the end, I solemnly promise to love you forever.   
  
Not really. But yanno...I'm not quite sure where this is going yet...I'll figure it out. Reviews would be welcomed. Oh yeah, and flames...I prefer those sent directly to email.   
  
Flame me at: ares3@machm.org  
  
Love yas!!  



	2. This was Not Progressing into a Good Day

This was Not Turning into a Good Day  
  
Author's Note: Yes!! MORE!!! ::laughs psycotically:: Mwahahahahha!!! ::bursts into coughing fit:: Um...just read, I guess. (cough~cough)  
  
This one's a bit more angst-ridden. Sorry.   
  
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"Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth-"  
  
Angel absently muttered the lines softly. "A Midsummer Night's Dream," by William Shakespeare. It had been his favorite book ever since he had gone to see the play when he was fifteen. Never had Lysander's words held such meaning.   
  
Although at the moment, Angel felt a bit more like the distraught and lovelorn Helena.   
  
"And I suppose that means that Collins is Demitrius. Although I dearly hope there's no Hermia involved in all this-or I'll drink myself to death I'm sure."   
  
The drag queen sighed, and absently ran a small brush through the fine dark hairs of his wig. Annoyed, he worked out a tangle with almost lazy patience.   
  
The phone rang.   
  
"DAMNIT!!!" Angel flung his brush down on the floor and stood up. The last thing he wanted to do was talk on the phone. But-  
  
It kept ringing.   
  
Angel picked up the phone and held it to his ear.   
  
"Hello?"  
"Angel? It's Mark. I still can't find Teddy..."  
"Okay! Okay! I'll come and help you find your teddy bear." Angel threw his hands up in exaspiration, and rubbed the bridge of his nose unhappily. "I'll be right there."  
  
Collins would be there.   
  
He didn't want Collins to be there.   
  
Yes he did.   
  
No, he didn't.  
  
Yes he did.  
  
No, he di-never mind.   
  
Angel glanced at the clock. 11:14.   
  
Damn.   
  
Slowly, he got dressed, paying special attention to his makeup and hair. Finally, after a good ten minutes of preparation, Angel walked out the door.   
  
He had forgotten his rain coat.   
  
Angel dashed back /into/ his apartment, and scrounged for his raincoat.   
  
Of course, he had left it at Collins'.   
  
Collins hadn't brought it back with him.   
  
"That asshole! I'm sure he did that on purpose! DAMNIT!!"   
  
Angel stormed out of the flat and into the pouring rain.   
  
But even the gray skies couldn't compare to his mood.  
  
  
"Angel! You came!"  
  
Mark's smiling face greeted him. Angel placed a hand in front of the camera he held in his grasp. "Put that away Mark, I'm not in the mood."  
"You're all wet!"  
"Yeah. Imagine that."  
  
Angel quickly checked his disposition, and decided that one lousy day wasn't something to ruin his friendship with everyone else in the loft over. A smile lifted onto his face.   
  
"So, where's your bear?"  
"I don't know!" Mark wailed softly, before setting down his camera and walking towards his room. "I got up this morning, did some shots of the sunrise, realized there was no sunrise to film because of all the rain, and decided to go back to bed. But when I got there, he was gone!"  
Angel patted the distraught Mark's shoulder, and forced out: "I'm sure we'll find...him...Mark..."  
"I hope."  
  
They began a rapid search. Mark took his room, combing through everywhere. Angel slipped into Collins' room to look. He knew that the bear wasn't in there, but he was tempted anyway.   
  
Collins lay napping on the bed.   
  
Angel definately hadn't considered that.   
  
Collins mumbled something, and rolled over.  
  
Angel slipped into the room, and gazed around. Slowly, he drew closer to his ex-lover, and peered over at his face.   
  
God, he was sexy.   
  
Angel checked his fluttering pulse, and reached out a hand to play against Collins' cheek.   
  
Tom didn't wake up.   
  
Angel took to gently stroking his hair.   
  
He still didn't wake up.   
  
Feeling braver, Angel bent over, and pressed his lips against Collins'.   
  
Warm. Slow. Fantastic.   
  
"Angel?"  
  
Mark. Damn.   
  
Angel yanked away and dropped to the floor, acting as though he had been searching under the bed for the bear. Mark's sudden yelp, however, had woken up Collins, who sat up with a start.   
  
"What the fuck are you doing in here?"  
Angel looked up, masking fury over his face. "I was helping Mark look for his teddy bear."  
"Angel! You weren't supposed to-"  
  
Collins laughed. Angel clapped his hand over his mouth for the second time that day. Mark gave an injured whimper.   
  
"Well, you were kissing Collins."  
  
Collins stopped laughing.   
  
Angel buried his face in his hands.   
  
Mark glowered.   
  
Angel clambered up to his feet, and jetted from the room before Collins could do anything.   
  
Mark was angry at him.  
Collins was angry at him.   
  
This was not a good day.   
  
Angel fell right outside the loft door, landing hard on his side. A surpressed yelp bit through his teeth.   
  
Thunder pealed through the stairwell, and a pigeon fluttered overhead.   
  
That pigeon was probably having a better day than he was.   
  
Not for the first time that day, Angel wanted to scream.   
  
That, or he wanted to cry.   
  
If he cried, he wanted Collins to hold him.   
  
There was no way that was gonna happen.   
  
He opted for screaming.   
  
  
A shrill hollar echoed through the apartment building.   
  
  
Mimi looked up.   
Roger looked up.   
Mark looked up.   
Mr. Bear looked up.  
Maureen looked up.  
Joanne looked up.  
Benny-"visiting"-some-poor-clueless-female-tenent looked up.   
Collins looked up.   
Various renters looked up.   
  
Angel, feeling slightly better, stormed down the stairs, out of the apartment building, down the street, in the door of his apartment building, up the stairs, and finally collapsed onto his bed.   
  
Then he got up.   
  
And flung a picture of Collins across the room.   
  
And watched it break.   
  
And felt good.   
  
For about two seconds.   
  
Then fell to the bed again.  
  
And cried.   
  
!!BRING!! !!BRING!! !!BRING!!  
  
Angel didn't get up.   
  
Angel didn't want to get up.   
  
"Hi. You've reached me, Angel. I'm not able to take your call right now, but if you leave a number and a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless you're Collins, you can go to hell. But as long as you're not, thanks!"  
  
--  
Angel regretted the last part of that message-added in on a burst of anger yesterday. He wanted Collins to call.   
  
He wanted someone to call.   
  
--  
  
(beep)  
  
"Hi, Angel? This is Sasha. I'm not gonna be able to fly in for your birthday babe. I'm sorry, and I'll try to mail you your present. Still fighting with Collins? He's a jerk, better to find somebody else. Gimme a call kid, you know my cell phone number. I'm really sorry again. Byes."  
  
  
--  
  
"Damnit. Damnit. Damnit. DAMNIT!!" Angel slammed his hand down on the bed, and his face dropped into his arms.   
  
His birthday was tomorrow.   
  
"WHY THE FUCK CAN'T EVEN SASHA COME DOWN?!?!" Angel yelped, taking a handful of photographs and ripping them up. Sasha's eye went fluttering to the floor, along with Collins' mouth.   
  
He wished he hadn't done that.  
  
He wished he hadn't gotten into that fight with Collins.   
  
He wished he hadn't let Sasha go out with Shelby.   
  
And then a thought occured to him.   
  
He wished Mark had found his teddy bear.   



	3. The Rain's Letting Up, Do You Wanna Go O...

"The Rain's Letting Up, Wanna Go Out With Us and Do Something Quirky?"  
  
Author's Note: I'M ACTUALLY CONTINUING IT!!! Yes, I do belong in a mental house, but then, I'd never get to post this kind of fanfiction! Then you'd all be stuck with completely angsty Mark stories and...despite fantastic writing...one kind of fanfiction gets bothersome. Ah well...not like I have anything better to do with my time anyway...  
  
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1:30.  
  
Angel looked up slowly, and blinked with a languid sort of sleepiness.   
  
Then he glanced at the clock.   
  
1:31--Sunday, April 14  
  
He hadn't managed to sleep through the rest of the day.   
  
Damn.   
  
When had he fallen asleep?  
  
Angel racked his brain.   
  
Woke up.   
Phone calls.   
Chocolate.   
Collins' pants.   
Teddy bear.   
Birthday.   
  
"Well _that_ makes almost as much sense as plaid and stripes put together in the same outfit."   
  
Then he remembered.   
  
And he wished he hadn't.   
  
With the same vigor as strolling molasses, Angel clambered to his feet, and immediately greeted his face in a mirror.   
  
"Oh Jesus..."  
  
There were bags under his eyes big enough to store his wardrobe for Florida in, and the actual rims of his eyes were red and puffy from crying. Flushed cheeks contrasted sharply to the "lovely" pale shade of the rest of his face, and the amber pupils so vivacious normally shone a dull light. He must have been heavily sleeping, for the wrinkles in his sheets had imprinted dents in his face.   
  
So overall, he looked a wreck. Not to mention that his clothing was rumpled.   
  
And his iron just so happened to still be at the loft.   
  
"Isn't it funny," Angel muttered with a ironic sort of humor to his image in the mirror, "that Collins brings back all the unimportant things to my apartment. But the things that I definately need he decided to leave back?"  
  
Angel figured he was also somewhat to blame, as in his rage and humiliation he had completely forgotten to get his raincoat and the like from the loft. But a strong sense of pride kept him from saying anything out loud about it.   
  
Even if he was the only person in the entire apartment.   
  
!!BRING!!BRING!!BRING!!  
  
One hand half-heartedly picked up the phone. "Hullo?"  
"Hey Angel!"  
"Mimi! Hi." In spite of everything, Angel's mouth curled into half of a smile. He at leats had a few friends left--and Mimi was a fun person to talk to on any type of day.   
"The rain's letting up, wanna go out with us and do something quirky?"  
  
_What do Collins' friends ever do that isn't quirky?_ Angel thought to himself, but replied into the phone a much kinder comment.   
  
"Oh, I don't know. What is it?"  
"Go for a picnic!"  
"In the rain?"  
"It'll be fun!"  
"Fun..."   
"Yeah! Mark decided that it really wasn't such a big deal, you blowing his secret and everything-"  
  
Real tactful Mimi.   
  
"-And we're all kinda pissed at Collins right now for acting so insensative. So how about it?"  
"Well, I don't know..."  
"What else were you planning on doing today?"  
"I was gonna...um..."  
"Sleep. Exactly. Angel! Where's that 'seize the day' motto you're always chanting? It'll be fun! Everybody gets off days, why run with your tail between your legs the first time one comes your way."  
"This is not the first bad day I've ever had Mimi."  
"Seems like it. Jeez, you're gonna let a little thing like a fight with Collins get to you like this?"  
"No, but-"  
"So meet us at the park in ten minutes. Byes!"  
  
Mimi hung up the phone.   
  
Angel hung up the phone.   
  
What had he gotten himself into this time?  
  
  
  
  
  
TEN MINUTES?!?!?!?!?!  
  
  
  
  
  
With the yelp that you only hear when a drag queen's supposed to get dressed to go out in _ten minutes_, Angel sprinted to his dresser and began frantically sorting through clothing. He had to look good. Had to make Collins jealous.   
  
No, we weren't going to think about Collins.   
  
Angel pulled out a shirt Tom had practically drooled over whenever Angel wore it.   
  
Yes, we were going to think about Collins.   
  
And we were definately going to wear that shirt.   
  
Sift, sift. Angel searched for a perfect skirt to go with it.   
  
None.   
  
Damn it.   
  
Oh yeah, he forgot. _That_ was back at the loft too.   
  
"Memo to self: STOP LEAVING YOUR FUCKING CLOTHING AT THE LOFT!!!"  
  
A defeated sigh, before Angel went to his jeans.   
  
Instantly he found the ones he was looking for. Shimmeringly mettalic, slightly flared at the ankles. They had been a present from Sasha.   
  
Of course, then again, these jeans did tend to get a little tight around the backsi-  
  
Wait a second,  
  
Since when had that ever bothered him?  
  
The clothes were slipped on, and immediately Angel ran to put on an appropriate wig. The black one, wisp-banged, slightly below shoulder length. Perfect.   
  
Angel stylized it, and in one sweep gathered a collection of makeup brushes into his hands. Busily he worked, framing over his eyes, filling out his complexion.   
  
Poking his eye with the eyeliner.   
  
"SHIT!!"  
  
Angel struggled with the pain for a moment, before regaining eyesight and realizing that his eye was watering.   
  
"No, not good. Not good at all."  
  
Angel finished up his makeup, slid on a coat, and hurried out the door.   
  
Sliding the lock on behind him.   
  
And leaving the key sitting on his dresser.   
  
  
Finally, Angel reached the park. Mimi and Roger were already there. They had taken the bus, and were unpacking their food onto a picnic table. An umbrella had been wedged in between cracks in the wood, and served to at least keep the food from soaking.   
  
"Hey Angel!"  
"Hey Roger."  
  
Angel sat down, and forced a smile onto his face.   
  
"So, we're the only one's here so far?"  
"Yeah, Mark's picking up sommore film. Maureen and Joanne should be here any second. And Collins had gone for a walk not long after you left the loft, so he should be here soon also."  
"Well, I hope all but Collins get here. He can get lost in the rain."  
"Angel!"  
"Sorry." Angel grinned, and sifted through the picnic basket. "So what'd you bring?"  
"Hamburger's a la` McDonalds!"  
"You guys picked up fast food?!"  
"Yeah, well, without you hanging around the loft we've had to feed ourselves. And well, despite all appearances, Mimi eats like a horse."  
"Roger!"  
"Sorry."  
"Hmph."  
  
Mimi crossed her arms, and turned her back on the musician, cocking a wink at Angel.   
  
"Looks like both of us are out of a boyfriend."  
"Wha? I'm not upset about it. And Roger was just playing, and you know it."  
"Yeah, I'm just playing too."  
"Sure you are."   
  
Roger grabbed Mimi by her waist and growled, nipping at her ear. Angel smiled, trying to keep the envy out of his expression. He remembered when that would have been him and Collins.   
  
"Hello young lovers!"  
  
Angel looked up.   
  
Well, speak of the devil.   
  
"Hey Collins."  
"Hey Roger, Mimi-"  
  
Collins' gaze reached Angel, and his smile disappeared--as did Angel's.   
  
They looked at each other for a second, before Collins resumed talking.   
  
"So, you decided to climb out of your shell, did you?"  
"You goddamn mother fucker-"  
"AH!" Mimi held up her hands, and yelled, shooting looks at both Collins and Angel. "I'll have none of this. You're both gonna be good and enjoy yourselves here, or I'll send ya both home."  
"This doesn't concern you Mimi."  
"It does when it gets serious."  
"This isn't a serious problem Mimi. Angel and I just aren't together anymore. I've gotten over it, the rest of you are just going to have to."  
Angel ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes narrowed. Words replaced tears gratefully. "I'm over it, asshole. You're the one who keeps bringing it up."  
"Oh, really, Mr.-'damn you're sexy when you're pissed.'"  
"Thomas Collins, you shut your fatass mouth right now-"  
"Don't 'Thomas Collins' me wench!"  
"Wench?!"  
"Oh, I'm sorry-whore."  
"FUCK YOU!"  
  
Angel and Collins stood an inch apart, face to face with an angry tension built up.   
  
Maureen's voice broke the silence that had followed the exclamations.   
  
"HOLY SHIT!! I never thought I'd live to see the day that these two would be screamin' like that at each other!"  
"Maureen!" Joanne facepalmed, shaking her head slowly. "That was insensitive."  
"What? It's true!"  
  
Angel backed up, mouth tight. "Yanno, I don't give a shit anymore. Let's just have this picnic and get it over with."  
"Fine with me."  
"Fine."  
"Fine."  
  
Angel and Collins sat down at opposite ends of the picnic table.   
  
Angel picked at the cheeseburger placed in front of him.   
  
It was getting soggy.   
  
So were his cheeks.   
  
It was the rain, really.   
  
He wasn't crying, really.   
  
Damnit.   
  
"GUESS WHAT ANGEL!!"  
  
Angel looked up, blinking away any oncoming tears. Mark's face shone to him from across the wooden top.   
  
"You're actually speaking to me?"  
"Yeah, I guess it wasn't such a bad thing after all, you telling everybody. Actually," Mark whispered, "Maureen's said she thought it was cute."  
"Well, good for you."  
"But you still haven't guessed it!"  
"What?"  
"I found him!"  
"Who?"  
"My teddy bear!"  
  
The skies instantly brightened slightly. Someone else's good news would have to please Angel today.   
  
"That's great! Where was he?"  
"Underneath my pillow! Isn't that uncanny?"  
"Amazing..."  
Mark's face beamed, and he pushed a plateful of fries to Angel. "Here, eat up."  
"I'm not hungry."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yeah."  
"Is it because..." Mark jerked his head slightly, indicating Collins, who looked equally nonappitized by the food in front of him. A dark hand was absently swirling a french fry around in a pool of ketchup. Upon eye contact, however, Collins gave Angel the finger and mouthed "fuck you" in his direction.   
  
Angel wished.   
  
Angel sighed, and turned his face back to Mark. "No. I just had a large breakfast."  
  
Yep. Chocolate. Great breakfast.   
  
Suddenly, Sasha's famous quote came to mind. "If all else fails, eat yourself into oblivion."  
  
  
  
"Yanno what Mark? I think I might just have some of those french fries."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Mark thrust the french fries into Angel's chest, spilling katchup all down the front of the drag queen's shirt.   
  
"Mark!"  
"Sorry Angel."  
"Sorry my-" Angel's voice trailed off as he scraped at the stain with a napkin, only making the red spot bigger. With an agrravated sigh, Angel threw the napkin down and buried his face in his hands.   
  
Not funny.   
  
Not funny at all.   
  
Faintly, he heard Collins laughing at him.   
  
Angel looked up.   
  
Angel frowned, and walked over to where Collins sat, smirking.   
  
And gave him a quick left hook in the jaw.   
  
"Jesus CHRIST you son of a bitch! What did you do that for?!"  
"For fuckin' laughing at me."  
"Oh, just because it looks like your chest's bleeding all over your shirt. Who wouldn't laugh?"  
"Somebody with consideration for other's feelings."  
"Oh, go shove it Angel."  
"Leave me the hell alone damnit!"  
"You're the one who came over and punched _me_, okay?"  
"You deserved it!"  
"Did not!"  
"Yes you did!"  
"You're such a whore Angel! And a fuckin' hypocrite."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"I mean, that you're always preaching about being true to yourself, and being yourself, and not letting a few clouds bock your sunshine. But now, you're freaking out over some spilled katchup."  
"You have no idea what my day's been like, so maybe you should just get over yourself."  
"I know what your day's been like. I had those every single day when I went out with you."  
  
Angel felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he whirled around angrily.   
  
Just then, a pidgeon pooped somewhere high above.   
  
No, it didn't land on him. Do you think I'd really do that to Angel?  
  
It landed on his food.   
  
Angel moaned, and buried his face in his hands.   
  
This was not good.   
  
Not a good day.   
  
Not a good picnic.   
  
Not a good anything.   
  
"Serves you right."  
"Oh go fuck yourself Collins!" Angel screeched. Collins set his jaw, and remarked back:   
"It'd be better than any screwing you've ever done."  
  
Angel heel-toe-ed, and stormed out of the park as quickly as he could.   
  
Collins remained behind, and watched him leave.   
  
Angel crossed the road, no longer feeling the rain.   
  
Now he was just cold.   
  
And crying.   
  
And-  
  
Angel dug farther into his pocket.   
  
Nothing.   
  
Lint.   
  
An old keychain.  
  
Without a key.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
  
Yes, I am gonna continue, and FINISH this peice of garbage!! HAH!!! 


	4. We~he~el

We~he~el

We~he~el.

Author's Note: This is the last chapter. I swear. The very last chapter...I think. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"NonononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononoNO!!!" Angel sobbed, falling against a building unhappily. 

He didn't have his key. 

It was in the apartment. 

Sitting on his dresser by the lipstick. 

Angel was locked out of his flat at 2:30 in the afternoon on April 14, 1996. 

And it was raining. 

"Well," Angel mumbled, straightening himself up and closing his eyes. "At least this day cannot get any worse."

SWOOSH!! 

Angel was drenched in puddle water from a passing car. 

"THAT WASN'T FUCKIN' FUNNY!!" Angel screeched, before pounding on the door to his apartment. 

Vainly. 

It didn't open. What did you expect? 

He banged on it again.

*And it magically opened revealing Collins standing in the doorway with a bunch of roses!!* 

Or not. 

"Why me?" Angel sobbed, smacking his head against the wooden door a consecutive ten times. "Why did this happen to me?!"

Silence. 

No answer. 

Angel looked up, drenched, at the sky. "You know, for one all-seeing God, you sure don't say much."

A bird fluttered over his head, and Angel seriously considered shooting a rubber band at its feathery little butt for being so goddamned happy. 

All right, so maybe that would be going a bit far.

Angel kicked his door angrily, and watched as his toes crumpled against the toe of his precious shoe. 

Yes that hurt. 

No it didn't make him any happier.

Yes he screamed. 

**"AURGH!!!!!!**

This scream echoed past the building, past the park, past the borders of New York, and somewhere far away in Santa Fe a little boy turned to his daddy and said: "What was that strange noise I just heard?"

"It was just an airplane son."

"Oh, okay."

No one in that little town in Santa Fe ever knew that it was actually a drag queen that had just slammed his toes against the hard fabric of his shoe. 

Not like they cared, anyway. *snort*

Angel collapsed to the wet ground and drew his knees up to his chest, back against he concrete building. A tear slipped down his cheek, then another. And another. And another. 

And so on…

"You need this?"

The deep bass voice broke Angel's reverie, and his head jerked up to see Collins standing over him, hand extended towards the transvestite's face, holding a spare key. Scrubbing the back of his wrist against his eyes, Angel stood up and replied defensively, "No."

Collins almost chuckled, but turned away from Angel, walking off. "If you say so…"

_Collins…going…with a key—_"Wait!"

He turned around and looked at Angel. "Yes?"

"Maybe…I could use it."

"All right then." Collins inserted the key and turned the knob, pushing the door open with half a smile. 

As soon as they reached Angel's flat, Collins burst out laughing. 

Angel tore off his saturated wig and set his jaw. "What _are_ you laughing about now?"

"You!" Collins roared with mirth as his eyes traveled over Angel's drenched form. "You look a mess!"

"You try being stuck out there in this weather without a fuckin' key!!" Angel shouted, struggling to fight back the tears like a, (for once), man. "See how you look after it!!"

Collins forced down a smile, covering his mouth with his hand as he walked over to where Angel was standing and put his hands on his shoulders. "Oh, come now, don't get mad at me just because you look like a wet poodle." He playfully cuffed Angel's cheek. "I'm still your little Tomcat, right Angel food cake?" Tom teasingly used the old pet names. 

"Yeah," Angel replied, deadpan, "meow." He pushed Collins' hand off of his face. "Get offa me. You said yourself we were over."

"Doesn't mean we still can't be friends." Collins said, walking into the bathroom to collect a stack of towels. "Here."

"Oh yeah, friends." Angel shrugged, and looked at the stack. "I don't need all those."

Collins looked over him, taking a towel off of the pile. "Frankly dearest, you do." He vigorously rubbed the terry fabric over Angel's head to dry the soaked face and neck. 

"Why are you here Collins?" Angel muttered, snatching the towel from Collins' grasp. "I thought you were pissed off."

Collins let go of the towel, and turned to the stove where he put some water on to boil for hot cocoa. Makes himself at home, that's Collins. "Well, I was…but then you stormed off and everyone turned on me and made me feel bad, so I figured-"

"Figured you'd just show up and I'd throw myself into your arms crying?" Angel snapped, walking out of the living room and back into his room to change out of the sopping clothes. 

"You said it, not me."

"Well I didn't throw myself into your arms crying, so don't hold your breath for it." 

Collins followed him, and stood outside of the closed door. "Hey, I didn't say anything."

"Hm." Angel's voice called from the other side of the door. 

Collins chuckled, and eyed the doorknob evilly. 

Then turned it.

And pushed the door open. 

Angel hadn't noticed, his back turned to the door. Collins chuckled again as he saw Angel peel the soaked pants off of his legs, and collapse down onto the bed in his boxers. 

"Nice."

"What the-COLLINS!!" Angel sprinted to the door and slammed it. Tom laughed loudly and turned back to the cocoa. Angel emerged five minutes later wearing a loose-fitting pair of black sweatpants that bagged out around the feet and a halfway-buttoned red shirt. "Who said you had free reign on my hot cocoa?"

"Aw… was making it fer you."

"Yeah I'm sure." Angel rolled his eyes and pushed Collins away from the pot. "Listen, you've done your good deed, made me feel bad, and looked in on me while I was changing. Will you go now?"

Collins frowned. "I was only trying to help. Forgive me for letting you into your apartment."

"Just go away Collins! I don't understand why you're even here now. Thank you for the key, I thought we had come to the agreement that we weren't seeing each other anymore."

"We had."

"Then why the fuck did you feel like it was such a good idea to open my door?"

Collins blushed, and shrugged, sitting down at the table. "Seemed kinda funny." Pause. "Listen, I just came to see whether you were all right. I figured you weren't having the _best_ day…so I-" Collins looked down at the tabletop, tracing the grain of wood with his finger. 

Angel did not feel bad. 

He definitely didn't feel bad. 

Oh Jesus, this was _Collins_ for God's sake! Of _course_ he felt bad!!

Angel collapsed to the chair across from Collins, holding two cups of cocoa. "Here. There was enough water in the pot for two, so…well…here." He pushed the mug over to where Collins' fingers were absently running over the wood. 

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Chirp chirp. 

Angel glanced up at Collins, who's brown eyes were raptly watching whatever interesting show the table was putting on for him that no one else could see. 

_God he's cute…adorable…handsome…hot…sexy…_ The words that ran through Angel's head to describe Collins intensified as he continued to drink in the broad shoulders, muscular form, finely-chiseled arms and torso, manly goatee, liquid brown eyes…

_Oh damnit Angel!! Say something!!_ He mentally kicked himself. 

And it hurt too. 

"I'm…uh…sorry for yelling at you earlier."

"Yeah…" Collins murmured, before looking up and quirking a sheepish smile. 

Angel melted into a puddle of Angelgoo on the floor while his heart danced the bunny hop. Ya ever seen Bambi-where Thumper gets kissed by that girl bunny and his foot starts slamming against the floor at a' hundred and fifty miles an hour? 

That was Angel. **_Thump thump thump thump thump!!_**

Collins looked down at his hot cocoa, and then at Angel. He repeated this process many times. To this day we do not know what connection he made between Angel and the cup of melted chocolate and water mixed and boiled. *Shrugs* Ah well…

Some things will always be a mystery. Like why they'll never give the rabbit those Trix™. I mean, isn't that sort of discriminating? Wait a second…that's off-topic, isn't it? *sheepish smile* Whoops. 

Anyways…Angel took a sip of his hot cocoa and sighed. "I guess you can tell I've been having a pretty shitty day…"

"Yeah, I noticed that." Collins shifted, uncomfortable in the uneasy silence. 

"It's just, it seems like everything that _could_ go wrong today _has_, and Sasha can't fly in for my birthday because of his new fuckin' boyfriend…Shelby something-or-other, and what with you-" Angel stopped, and shrugged slightly.

Collins reached forward and buttoned a loose button on Angel's shirt gently. "And what with me, what?"

"Nothing. Just, with you not, you know, being with me anymore, I just…"

"Angel Dumott Schunard, do you _miss_ me?!"

"I do not!" Angel spat, rising up from his seat defensively. Collins smirked, and laid a hand on Angel's arm, easing him back down to a sitting position. 

"Easy there tiger, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Well I _don't_ miss-" Angel looked at Collins. _Oh hell._ He sighed, and averted his eyes elsewhere. "So maybe I do…a _little._"

A _little_. What a laugh. 

Collins let his hand slip from Angel's arm to his wrist, then down to his hand. There he took it in his own, and caressed the back of Angel's hand with his thumb. "Maybe I miss you too, a _little_."

"Well then, we both miss each other a little. Where does that get us?" Angel mumbled, looking at the laced fingers and pressing hands. 

"Hm…" Collins smiled, and leaned forward over the table to kiss Angel. 

Angel did the same. 

You knew it was gonna happen. 

The hot chocolate when reeling, splashing all over the two of them.

Collins jumped back, hands scalded with the burning liquid. "Aw shit!"

Angel cursed silently to himself. _Damnit!! I almost had him! We were so close! It's not faaaaaairr!!!!_

__"Oh Jesus Collins, I had no idea that was gonna-"

"It's…okay…" Collins blew helplessly on his hand, and Angel quickly went to go get a cold towel. Once he had it, he gently pressed it against Tom's hands. "Ow!!"

"I'm sorry Collins, but-"

"It burns damnit!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"You spilled it!!"

Angel's lower lip quivered as he threw the washcloth down at Collins. "You do it yourself then damnit!!" The day had made his sensitivity levels skyrocket, and this was the thing that sent him over the edge. 

And with that, he ran into his room crying, the door slamming behind him.

Collins sighed guiltily as he laid the cold cloth on his scalded hand and looked after Angel. "Aw hell…" 


	5. Last last last!!!!

Author's Note: THIS IS THE VEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERY LAST CHAPTER!! I SWEAR I WILL WRITE NO MORE!!! 

I hope. 

Ah yes, and do read to the end. The last couple of paragraphs may seem a bit…well…interesting, but I promise you'll be rewarded. It's a somewhat funny ending. You just have to get past the other stuff. 

~~

7:32

7:33

7:34

7:35

7:36

7:37

7:38

7:39

7:40

"Angel?"

Silence

Collins slammed his hand against the door again. "Angel!!"

Silence.

"Angel, come on, I didn't mean to sound mad!! My hand just hurt!! I swear I wasn't pissed off at you!!"

Angel sat on his bed. 

Arms crossed.

Another knock. 

"Angel!!!"

"Go away!"

Smart Angel. 

Angel sighed, and reluctantly opened his door. 

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to apologize!" Collins practically shouted, wincing as his hand struck against the doorframe. The burn mark had turned a lovely shade of pale auburn, contrasting sharply with his dark skin. Angel noted the color change and grimaced. 

"You…aughta run that under cold water."

"I wanted to make sure you were alright first."

The transvestite snorted, and dragged Collins over to the sink, where he shoved the hand under a running faucet of freezing water. 

Collins cringed at the temperature. 

Angel cringed at Collins' cringing. 

Collins cringed at Angel cringing at Collins cringing. 

Angel cringed at Collins cringing at Angel cringing at Collins cringing. 

Collins cringed at-

Wait a second; I'm getting off topic. Gawd, I've got to stop doing that. 

Collins watched Angel, eyes traveling over the transvestite's slim form as he wrung out his hand, which was now dripping the freezing liquid. 

Angel looked up, noticed Collins grinning face, and blushed. "What now?"

"Nothing."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Oh…okay…"

Tom ran a towel over his fingers, and started chuckling.

Angel shot a glare in his direction. "Are you laughing at me, _again_?"

Collins stifled a chuckle. 

Angel shot him another glare. 

Collins burst out laughing. 

Angel huffed, spun around, and headed back towards his room. 

Collin stopped chuckling. 

And rushed over to where Angel walked. "No you don't. Not again. No fair." 

"What?"

"You're not locking yourself up in your room again."

"Why not? You don't seem to have a problem with opening the door on me!"

"Oh bah, you're still steaming about that?"

"I was getting changed Collins!"

"Never bothered you before."

Angel shot him a deadpan look. "We were going out before."

"We're going back out now, aren't we?"

_Yes! Yes! Yes!_ Angel shouted internally, but firmed his mouth and snorted. "No."

"But then, what was-and you said-and _I_-"

"Go away."

Angel started off again for his room. 

Collins whirled up and around, blocking him. "Nope. No Roger impressions. It's not healthy."

"Do I look like I care?"

"Do you care about anything these days?"

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"That I try to be nice. I try to make up with you. I try to make everything all right between us and _you're_ continuing to hold a grudge." Pause. "I thought you loved me."

_No, no, weak knees are bad. Collins is an insensitive asshole. Angel, don't you dare…_

Angel averted his gaze to the floor. 

No fair. 

"Have you taken your AZT today Ang?"

No nicknames. 

That's not allowed. 

Damnit!

"No. The bottle ran out yesterday." 

"I thought so." Collins sighed, and pulled out his own bottle, relieving it of two pills and depositing them in Angel's hand, which he had picked up and cupped in his own. "You should've said something." 

"How could I? You were too busy yelling at me."

"Well, I would've listened if you had grabbed my shoulders and said: 'Collins, I ran out of AZT and have no car to get to the doctor for more.'"

"You don't have a car either."

"Yeah, but I have money for the bus. You don't."

"Shut up."

"Fine. You know what? Fine. All I do, and you just, I-to hell with it all. Okay Angel? Happy? I'm leaving." Collins turned around sharply and started for the door. 

_Bad day._

_Collins-_

"Collins!" Angel shouted out, running back behind him. 

He didn't turn around. 

Okay, so _now_ he chooses to leave. Great. 

"Collins, please…wait…" Angel stopped walking after him and let his hands drop to his sides. 

Collins' hand slipped from the doorknob. "Why? …Two seconds ago you wanted me out."

"Well, now I don't. Just-" 

"Stay?"

"Yeah."

Collins turned around slowly, a small smile lifting on his face. Brown eyes sparkled slightly, before he looked sheepishly down at the ground. "Then, we're…"

"Going out again?"

"Well, are we?"

"…Only if you want to…"

Tom looked up again, and grinned. Then, on an impulse, he lunged forward and grasped Angel, pulling the transvestite up before spinning him around once. Lips met lips as Collins meshed his mouth against Angel's. 

When they finally released, and Angel was placed back down on the ground, he laughed. "Then I guess that's a yes, Collins."

"Ya think?" Tom grinned, and playfully ruffled Angel's hair slightly. Angel wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, gazing into the brown eyes and taking a step back. 

And then tripped. 

_Stupid stupid stupid!_ Angel thought to himself again, before limply hanging his head. 

Collins suppressed a laugh, and held out his hand. "Do you want help up?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Angel?" He gave Angel, a "look." 

Angel grimaced, and took the hand, climbing to his feet. "This has not been a good day." 

"I noticed."

"Yeah well, I don't like it."

"No one does." 

With a sigh, Angel ran thin fingers through his hair and looked back up at Tom. "Do you wanna…watch a movie or something? I doubt I can screw something up then."

"Sure." Collins smiled, and turned to the meager collection of videos. "What does her highness wish to watch?"

"Something with no one dying in it, and enough comedy that I won't be crying by the end."

"How's about _Victor/Victoria_?"

"Okay." Angel nodded, and slid a bag of popcorn into the microwave and pressed in the time. "You want anything to drink?"

"Do you have, like, a Coke or anything?"

"I've got diet Pepsi."

"Urgh. You're still on that diet?" Collins chided, tsking unhappily. 

"Shut up. I'm about three and a half pounds overweight, and I was just trying to work them off."

"And have you?"

"Well, with all the bad luck I've had today, and the amount of chocolate I've eaten, I've probably gained it all back ten fold."

Tom chuckled, and pulled down a wool blanket from the hall closet. "Yeah yeah yeah. Excuses excuses. I still say you look perfect just the way you are."

"You have to say that. And anyway, it's not like you would have even THOUGHT that two hours ago, hm?"

"We were fighting two hours ago."

"And then you opened my door when I was changing."

"Can't you let that go?"

"You opened the door Collins!" Angel laughed, before sliding out a bowl for the popcorn and tossing Tom a can of diet Pepsi. 

Which, by the way, is disgusting tasting. 

I figured since I was the author I was allowed to put my two sense in for it all. 

*Gets slapped by Angel and Collins, who want to get this stupid chapter over with*

Okay, okay. Fine. Jeez, anything for a chance to dim the lights so that they can start playing tonsil hocke-

*Collins attacks her with a curling iron*

Now _that_ isn't right!  
_*ANGEL_ attacks her with a curling iron.*

Much better. Now, um, back to the story. 

Suddenly, the aroma of burning rubber filled the air. 

And smoke began seeping from the cracks around the door of the microwave. 

"Oh shit…"

"Is something burni-Jesus Christ Angel!"  
The popcorn was burning. 

It was black. 

And charred. 

And-did you know popcorn is flammable? I didn't know that until yesterday. That's pretty cool, doncha think? 

Well, I do. 

Angel moaned in despair as he tried desperately not to burn himself as he retrieved the smoking, burning bag from the microwave. 

For once, he was thankful that he lived in a junky ol' loft without a fire alarm, or it would have been beeping beyond mortal comprehension. 

The popcorn was unsavable. I know there's a real word for that somewhere, but I can't remember what it is at this moment, so I'm just saying unsavable. I know it isn't a real word. Wait a tic, didn't I just say that? 

It was black. 

And charred. 

And-oh lordy, I already said _that_ too. 

Collins stifled _another_ laugh, and walked over to where Angel was staring at the popcorn with a forlorn look on his face. 

A tear slid down the transvestite's cheek. 

Then another one. 

And another one. 

And another one. 

Until they were flooding down his face and sliding off of his chin. 

Damnit. 

Damnit. 

Damnit. 

Collins took Angel's hands and squeezed them. "I'm sorry baby. But, it's just popcorn. C'mon and watch the movie." _We'll give the burnt charcoal time to cool._ He thought, but didn't say, for fear of Angel beating him senseless with something heavy. 

Or worse yet, making him eat that popcorn. 

Gross. 

Angel reluctantly sat down on the couch with Collins and leaned up against him, the blanket sitting over the two of them. 

The movie played. 

But I'm not gonna summarize the movie because it really isn't worth my time. Grrrr…

Finally, the last couple of shots breezed by, and Angel turned off the movie. 

The room was completely dark now. 

10:19

10:20

Collins smiled, and kissed Angel. 

Angel kissed him back. 

At least something went right today. 

Collins leaned over Angel, pressing him back against one arm of the couch. Angel's arms drifted up in turn to play against Collins' shirt. As kissing heated, so did movements, as Collins was flooded with a wash of familiar passion. The transvestite under him squirmed to relieve his lover of clothing that marred the sense of touch that flooded through their equal veins. Tom's mouth traveled from Angel's lips to his neck, then down lower, licking the warm skin. 

Angel moaned. 

Collins moved lower, undoing buttons as he went until nothing separated them but skin. 

Angel sighed. So close. It was so damn close he could feel it. Collins' hands touched, and stroked the warm, soft skin, purposely teasing the drag queen. Finally, he started the heavier petting, and felt as Angel rose under him in a pre-orgasm. 

Close. 

Sweating. 

Higher. 

Nearer.

Hotter. 

**THUMP!!**

Angel had fallen off the couch. 

**"SHIT!!!!"**

** **

**~~**

**I bless any who have dared read this entire thing.**

**For those who actually enjoyed it, well, you know therapy is always an option. I happen to like my counselor. We have made some major breakthroughs. **

**The very, very end. ^_^**


End file.
